Maximum Ride: All is Lost
by tiel lover
Summary: Max is broken, both physically and mentally. Now, as she struggles to tame her emotions, Max wonders if her life is worth anything anymore, or is she completely lost?
1. Are You New To This Ride?

Are you new to this ride? If so, you may want to read the first book in this series, Maximum Ride: Out for Revenge. It'll make the events in this story a whole lot clearer. Either way, enjoy the ride!


	2. Shattered

_My name is Maximum Ride, or at least it used to be. Well, technically, it still is, but inside I feel like a totally different person. A shadow of who I used to be._

_To put it simply, I'm broken. Shattered. Like a piece of glass. And it's all Fang's fault. Okay, maybe it was my fault that I let all of my emotions out, but Fang was the one who pushed me into doing it. I feel like a glass of milk, once full, but now drained and empty. I wish I had a glass of milk right now, I'm so hungry._

_It's been a week since I left the Flock, one week since I was shattered. I miss them terribly - well, not Fang - but I can't go back. I promised Fang I would never return and I meant it. That's about all I have left, my pride. I can't let it go too._

_It's hard to think straight. My head hurts and so do my ribs. They're finally starting to mend after my scrape with the Ari-bot, but I'm a long way from 100%. But my ribs are a whole lot better than me, mentally. Maybe I'm sick in the head. Is this what being a lunatic feels like? I'm not sure._

_I just want it all to end. To wake up in a cave somewhere, listening to the breathing of my family and finding out that this was all some sick, twisted, horrifying dream. But this is my life, right? So that couldn't possibly happen. This is all very real. Every day that passes, I feel another part of me slipping away. How long will it be until there's nothing left except for a shell?_

_I wish I could reverse it all, to go back and change what I did. But life doesn't have a rewind button, so I'm out of luck. Luck. That's one thing I could use right now. It's been nearly three days since I've last eaten. I just don't have the will to go out and find food. I've lost my will to live. I don't mean that it's all gone, but that overpowering will to survive, to break free, is gone. I just want to be alone, to die in silence. If the School sent someone after me right now, I probably wouldn't even fight back._

_I want to fight though. I can feel this very tiny spark of me still inside this shell. But every time I reach for it, I'm blocked by a wave of emotions I can't control. Rage, hate, fear. Mostly fear. I feel lost in my own feelings. It's hopeless._

_I have been curled up in a ball in this corner for what seems like years. No one's come to bother me; this part of New York is abandoned. This position feels so good, so safe. It's hard to leave it, even for a moment. If only I could stay this way forever. But I have to find food. I'm not that far gone._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I unwillingly uncurled myself from a fetal position. I've sleeping in an abandoned apartment building, in the suburbs of New York, on the top floor for a few days now. Thankfully no one's come anywhere near here, I'm not sure if my brain could handle even seeing another person at this point. But I'm mending, slowly, but surely. I can feel that little bright ball of _me_ growing inside its cover of darkness, coming out again. It makes me feel good to look at it and say to myself, "It'll be alright." But I'm just fooling myself. It's not alright.

My main objective - that's a word I haven't used in a week - is to find food. Any kind of food, but preferably edible. I don't want to get sick, not in this state. That could be fatal. I've haven't even bothered trying to hide my wings these past few days; I just don't have the energy. My stomach feels like a black hole, sucking in everything around it.

I stretched my wings and arms out, trying not to retch. One word for you - cramps. Ouch. I shook out my wings a little to try and get at least some of the feathers realigned and then I jumped out a shattered window. Shattered. Just like me.

I hung in a free fall for a few seconds, allowing my feelings to be swept away in the howling wind, then I snapped my wings open and took flight. Flying hurts my ribs, so I try and avoid it as much as I can. But this trip was necessary, I needed food.

I spiraled around for a few minutes, enjoying the wind in my hair and the familiar rhythm of my wings. Up, down, up, down. Ah, the music of flight. I quickly tucked my wings in and angled into a short dive, landing on top of a low building.

I quickly shimmied down the drain pipe before anyone could see me, then stole behind a green trash bin. I could smell the food coming from inside of the restaurant, which, apparently, serviced this can. Soon, a chef dude came out with a tray of unwanted food, still good but unservable. After he had left, I dashed around the front of the can, looking inside eagerly as I did so.

I had hit the jackpot. I grabbed as much as I could, stuffing extra into my windbreaker when my pockets were full; day old rolls, croissants, a slice of chocolate cake, some sausage links, a few pieces of bacon, and an unopened bottle of orange juice.

I flew back to my abandoned apartment, lumpy and smiling for the first time in, well, a week. I quickly sat down in my dusty corner, unloaded my bounty, and began to eat. Gosh, I was so hungry. Even the cold, greasy bacon tasted good. And trust me, old, cold bacon isn't exactly on the top of the menu here. I fell asleep, feeling better than I had in days. But while my stomach was full, I still felt empty. _Shattered._


	3. Broken

Fang sat on the edge of a skyscraper, fiddling with a stick, and watching the Flock soaring high above him. He found no joy in flying anymore, not with Max gone. Fang felt as if someone had taken a big knife and hacked some important part of him off, leaving an open, ragged wound.

_Darn you Max!_ He hurled the stick as far as he could and watched it disappear over the skyline. _Why did you have to leave?_ Fang was angry at Max for leaving; it was his way of dealing with the pain. The truth was, he needed Max, just like she needed him. Or least he thought that was how it was. Fang was having difficulty - okay, a lot of difficulty - keeping the Flock in order without Max. When she'd been around, everyone had listened to him, but now, now there was a lot more fighting. Emphasis on a lot more. And Fang was at a loss on what to do. He just wasn't cut out for this leader stuff. Not like Max was.

Max. He was doing a lot of thinking about her. A thought about Max crossed Fang's mind about every minute a day. How was she doing? Was she really that mad at him, or was she just stressed? Would she ever come back? Would he ever see her again? Where was she?!

Fang stood up, shaking his head, and brushed his dirty black Levi's off. Dry, encrusted dirt fell off in a shower of dust. He really needed to Max out of his head and the only way to do that was to find her.

_Where are you Max?_

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I was lost in that wonderful black darkness that had surrounded my consciousness after I left the Flock. _When had that happened? A week ago? Two weeks? It feels like eternity. Why did I leave anyway? _And suddenly, all of those awful, brain-churning thoughts were gone, like a leaf tossed on the wind.

This peace was so comfortable and unbroken, only disturbed by the occasional growling of my stomach. It had been a whole day since I had last eaten - or was it two? Time made no difference here in Dark. _Dark reminds me of this cheesy TV show I heard about a while back. It had a ride named after it . . . somewhere. What was the name of the show again? I can't remember anything anymore. It's all a muddled mess - like tangled spaghetti. I like spaghetti; I think. Have I ever had spaghetti before?_

I was curled up in a ball in my apartment corner. My thoughts were muddled and slightly incoherent. I was losing it. Big time. I was finally, utterly going insane. That little ball of 'me' wasn't growing fast enough. I wasn't going to make it. Rage helps though. If I get mad, Dark backs off a little and I can thinking semi-clearly for a time. And then Dark comes raging back, like a bad burrito, and swoops me away into la-la land.

I'm mad right now. That's the only reason I can even think this much. Mad. Mad at Fang. Fang left me! I feel so lost. So Lost . . .

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Fang swooped through the air, feeling lonely and miserable. Max should be ahead of him, leading the Flock to their next destination. But Max wasn't there, just wide open sky. It felt wrong. Terribly wrong. He had chased Max away and upset the delicate balance of his family which Max had always maintained so well.

"Fang?" asked Angel as she pulled up beside him. "Are you alright?"

Fang looked at the six-year-old, not wait _seven-year-old_, and smiled. "Yep." A generic answer.

Angel frowned and shook her head. "No you're not."

Now it was Fang's turn to frown. "What did Max say about reading people's minds?"

Angel blinked at him with wide eyes. "She always says that I should only do it unless it's absolutely necessary. But, anyway, I_ didn't_ read your mind; a baby could tell that you're upset!"

Fang shrugged his shoulders and turned his head away. "It's been hard, you know. Max was, no _is_, our leader and she left. I'm not used to all of this commanding stuff like Max is."

Angel fell silent. "Max didn't leave, Fang." she whispered. "You killed her."

Fang was shocked, but he didn't show it. "What so you mean Angel? I didn't kill Max."

The young girl looked him straight in the eye. "I picked some stuff up from Max when she flew away." Fang nodded - it wasn't uncommon for Angel to check in on her family's thoughts every once-in-a-while. "She didn't feel like Max anymore." Angel paused, trying to find the right words. "I think you killed Max, inside. Not her body but like, like her spirit. You know, Max."

Fang sucked in a breath. He knew exactly what Angel was saying. "Thanks Angel." he said, ruffling her soft, blonde curls. "I think about that for a while." Angel gave him a half-smile and dropped back to join Total, who was flying next to Iggy.

_So I really did kill Maximum Ride. From the inside. I broke her heart._


	4. Lost

_Every sound is painful, ever ray of light torture. The wonderful, comforting Dark has fled, leaving me in this horrorable place. Loud horns honked all day long and lights lit up the sky even after the bright ball fell from the sky. What is this terrible place? Where am I?_

_I don't know anymore. Who am I? Who was I? I can barely grasp images before they flee from me. But one image always sticks in my mind; a dark, tall boy. He has shaggy black hair that contrasts with his olive skin. And his eyes! His dark eyes stare out at me with this all-knowing gaze. He calls to me, but I cannot hear what he says._

_I want Dark to return. Dark is my friend; Dark will take the awful boy and his wordless lips away. Dark will release me from my pain. I have been curled up here for ages in this torturous place. Dark does not come often, but I treasure it when it does._

_It is often anger that chases Dark away; anger at the bright ball, at the loud noise, at the wordless boy. I wish he would go away, but he haunts my thoughts like a restless ghost. I think he may be important, but I'm not sure. Thinking hurts so much. It is so much better just to lie in Dark and let it all slip away._

_Inside of me there is another bright ball. It never moves up and down like the big bright ball, but it stays where it is, even when Dark comes. It makes me happy to look at it from a distance, but I never get close because Little Bright Ball bites me. It hurts too. Lots of feelings I don't understand come from Little Bright Ball, so I avoid it whenever I can._

_I am so warm and happy here, I want to stay forever. Dark will come again soon and everything will be . . . all . . . right . . ._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Fang was worried about Max. It had been a week and a half since she disappeared and he hadn't seen a solitary trace of her. Usually Max did something to attract the news eventually, but so far the papers had been mutant-bird-kid-free.

The Flock was staying in a run-down house on the border of New York state. Fang had decided to search New York - it was the biggest city closest to Virginia, besides Washington D.C. And they'd already searched the capital, so New York made sense.

Everyone was missing Max; her bossy, leader-like, I-always-know-what-to-do attitude. The Flock was in a disarray. Their family, Max's family, was falling apart without her. Just this morning, Fang had found Angel and the Gasman fighting over who got the last crème-filled doughnut and he hadn't known what to do. But Max would've. Max always knew what to do, even when she didn't. Max was strong, Max was a survivor, Max was their leader.

Fang got up and walked to the edge of the roof. He had been sitting there, under the open sky, trying to sort his thoughts out without the everyday distractions of the Flock. Now he leaped off of the building and unfurled his dark, strong wings, pumping to get some altitude. Man, he loved flying. But not as much as he loved flying with Max around.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

_The wordless boy has returned. He stands just out of reach, as if taunting me. No matter how many times I lash out at him, he never moves. He is not afraid of me, and why should he be? I am nobody special._

_But maybe I am. I can't remember anything about who I am; my name, my family, or where I come from. But I know this - I have wings. Like the birds outside. Like the wordless boy. I have seen his wings. Sometimes they are flared out, like angel's wings. Other times they are tucked in tight against his back. But they are always there, dark and black._

_The boy is not so wordless anymore. Sometimes I can hear faint snatches of what he says, but mostly he just stands there, beckoning me urgently. The boy is annoying, but he is also a comfort. A friend in this dark place._


	5. Afraid

Dark had taken me. It was so warm, so comforting, and so . . . safe. When Dark was around, all of my jumbled up emotions floated away like ripples send out from a pebble thrown into a pond.

_Dark is so wonderful, I just want to stay here forever. Who __is__ I anyway?_ Dark shrank back from my thought, so I let it slide away, and Dark returned, taking me up in its embrace. I murmured something incoherent, even to myself. Dark felt so _right_. _Wouldn't be wonderful to stay in Dark forever?_ Dark retreated and then darted around my consciousness, like an angry bee, eager to take me again. I reached out to it, but my stomach growled like a hungry animal and Dark fled from my grasp.

I pouted. I wanted to go back into Dark, not later, when it returned, but now. I sat up and brushed some stringy stuff out of my eyes. I wasn't sure what this stuff that clung to my head was, but it didn't hurt me unless I pulled on it, so I left it alone.

"Uhggg," I moaned. My eyes began to focus to the bright light that flooded into them from the Big Bright Ball. I could make out a dark shape a little ways away from me, sitting and watching.

My eye finally turned the black blob into discernable shape. It was a man. He was hunched over in the opposite corner, playing with a broken piece of clear stuff. I tried to remember what it was called, but the word wouldn't come. He wore a red plaid coat that was torn and muddied. His crazed, bloodshot eyes focused on me, his lips were cracked in a grin that revealed a mouthful of rotten teeth.

He stood up and began to amble towards me. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but he didn't look pleasant, not at all like Dark or the wordless boy. I stood up, my legs shaking, and put my hands out in front of me so he couldn't come any closer.

A gnarled hand grabbed my wrist in an iron grip. The man leaned so close I could smell his foul breath, like rotting garbage.

"Hello deary," he wheezed. "We're going to have a little fun." My mind only registered about half of the words, but his tone made me afraid. Very afraid. I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp, but he held me tight.

"None of that," he scolded and wrenched my arm. Pain shot through me like white lightning. I pulled backwards, but he laughed harshly and began dragging me to the other side of the room. I kicked him in the shin and he howled, letting go of my arm. I balled my fingers and spread my legs slightly apart. I wasn't sure why I did it, but it just felt so right.

"Feisty are we?" he cackled. He reached out his hand to grab me again. Everything slowed down. I shot out my fist and it connected with his nose. The cartilage snapped to the side and blood began flowing from his nostrils. He cussed and held his face with one hand. Red blood dripped between his fingers and splattered on his grimy tennis shoes.

His eyes glared at me. I wasn't sure what I had just done, but he didn't seem to like it. So I did it again, and again, and again. I was a whirl. I was totally on auto pilot, going with my instincts. Finally, the man fell to the ground, broken and bloody. I stood over him, breathing hard and growled. He snarled back at me, then half-crawled half-ran out the crumpling door.

I slumped back into my corner. My arm throbbed, but I couldn't see anything wrong with it, so I tucked it under me and gritted my teeth. I remembered things now, the fear had brought them to the surface of my memory. Words that had been lost to me; plaid, arm, hair, blood. I wasn't sure why I was so excited, but I think it had to do with the Little Bright Ball inside of me. It was growing and it made me feel good. I wasn't disappointed after the sun (that was another word I remembered) dropped out of sight and Dark did not return.

Instead the boy came. He beckoned franticly to me. I could tell that he was shouting, even though no words let his mouth. He seemed urgent, scared even. His dark wings were flared out behind him. I stretched out my wings too, just so I could show them to him. My wings made me proud, but why, I did not know. I tried to make him understand that I couldn't hear him, but he did not understand. He looked distressed. Then one, solitary word reached my ears. It echoed in my brain, ringing over and over and over again. Dark swooped in a brushed the boy away. I reached out to him, but he was covered over by the darkness and I knew no more.

"Max."


	6. Dark

I was mad at Dark; so very, very, very mad. Dark had taken the wordless boy away just as he had begun to speak to me. His only word was still ringing in my head like an endless gong. _Max._ I remembered this word well - it was my name. I still do not know who I am, what my history is, but I know my name. Max. I have an identity. I am Max, the one with wings.

Every day the Little Bright Ball inside of me grows larger. I am remembering things that I hadn't before. The wordless boy still comes and speaks to me, but he always says the same word. "Max." I think he is calling to me. When I try to return his pleading, his face screws up, as if in great pain. I hate to see him hurt, so I have stopped trying to talk to him. I have also remembered his name; it came from a darkened corner of my mind, dark and mysterious and . . . loving. Fang.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Fang soared over the tall skyscrapers of New York. It was dusk and the heavy cloud cover made for a perfect, unseen landing. Fang slowly angled his wings so he plunged into a shallow dive, pulling up sharply at the last second so he hit the rooftop of a building at a run. Behind him, he heard four muffled thumps as the rest of the Flock landed.

He turned and surveyed his family. They were dirty and unorganized. Angel and Nudge's hair hadn't been combed in days; their tangled locks hanging limply from their heads. The Gasman had dirt smeared across his face like face paint. Iggy's eyes were faded and flitted back and forth like agitated bees. Fang was worried about Iggy; he had begun to retreat into himself, locking his mind in an unreachable box.

No one spoke, not even Total or Nudge. All five mutants stood silently on the rooftop of a skyscraper overlooking the crowded, busy, noisy streets of the Big Apple.

"Fang?" Angel stuttered as she tottered up next to him. "Will we find Max," here she paused try and suppress a fit of coughing, "here?"

Fang looked out over the never ending maze of streets and lights. "I don't know Angel. I just don't know."

Angel began to cry softly. Fang sat down on the roof and scooped the seven-year-old into his arms. She buried her face in his black, grimy shirt and grabbed huge fistfuls of the fabric. Fang was at a lost on what to do. A memory of Max, unbidden, popped into his mind; Max cradling Angel when she had scraped her knee. Max was singing softly and stroking the young girl's hair.

Fang held Angel tightly and ran his fingers through her hair. Angel's tear-stained face looked up at him. "Fang, I want Max." she whispered.

Fang managed a small smile. "We all do sweetheart. We all do."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

_My name is Max. I have wings. I know these things, but who am I really? What is my past? Who is Fang?_

I sat in my corner, pondering these unanswerable questions. But I wanted the answers - they could unlock my past. I stood up. I needed food that was for sure. Answers and questions would have to wait. I crept out of my room and into the dark, dank hallway, watching for any more homeless men who might have some nasty ideas.

I opened a door and began ascending the stairs behind it. I could fly out of the shattered window in my abandoned apartment, but its edges were sharp and I'd already cut myself more than once trying to leave that way. I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door. Bright lights and a wall of sound hit me immediately, but I kept walking. This city was never quiet and I'd become use to it.

Closing the door behind me, I scanned the area for possible threats. Seeing none, I turned around, facing towards the city, and stopped. In front of me, not one hundred feet away, was a group of the scraggliest people I had even seen.

They wore tattered clothing that had seen better days in, well, years. Dirt was smeared on them like a second skin. There were five of them. One, the second shortest, was holding a black lump of fur I took to be a dog.

A boy, dressed in black from head to toe, was sitting on the rooftop, cradling a small girl, not much older than six. Her hair was a dirty blonde and she clung to the boy for dear life. But the one thing in common that all of these people shared was very apparent on their backs. Every single one of them had wings.

An image of Fang, the wordless boy from my dreams, popped into my head. I looked again at the seated boy, who was still cradling the crying girl. I suppressed a gasp of shock; they were the same person. As I watched from the shadows, the boy's eyes seemed to burn into mine. Then he uttered a single word. "Max."


	7. Light

I stumbled backwards, further into the shadows, as six pairs of eyes burned into me. One of the five humans, a tall blonde, stood motionless where he was, though he cocked his head to the side as if listening. The small, black dog jumped out of the young boy's hands and onto the ground, turning to face me with a his lips drawn back to show pointed teeth. I noticed with suppressed surprise that the dog had a pair of black wings protruding from his back, not much larger than the dog himself.

The dark boy, apparently in command, stood and placed himself at the front of the group. The young girl peeked out from behind his leg, her eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. His body was rigid, but a light sparkled in his eyes, betraying his carefully contained joy.

"Max?" the boy - Fang - called again. I studied him carefully, trying to find a hint of threat in his voice. I stepped timidly out of the shadows, choosing my next move carefully. I heard the young girl gasp loudly, then she shook herself free from Fang's leg and ran over to me, embracing my waist in a constricting hug. I tensed momentarily, but then relaxed a little. The girl's hug seemed genuine, like she was greeting a long-lost friend, but I could not remember ever meeting her before.

The young boy who had been holding the dog rushed over as well, a big grin pasted on his face, and hugged me tightly, somewhat squishing me. I watched as an African-American girl pulled the tall, white boy - who must've been blind - over to me. His hands gently ran over my wings, feeling the feathers individually. Even the dog came up and started to lick me legs, then seemed to think the better of it.

Fang; however, hung back, watching me with cold, dark eyes. I stared back at him and saw a touch of emotion on his face; pain, remorse, fear. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to hug him, but with my human bonds, I could not.

Who were these people? I could not remember any of them - I only knew Fang because of my dreams - and yet they seemed to have known me for a very long time, judging from their hugs and my possibly bruised ribs.

The dirty blonde girl pulled back and looked at me with wide eyes. "Max, I'm so glad you came back!" she cooed. _Came back? Maybe I have met these people before . . ._ The girl's eyes widened even larger (I don't know how that was even possible) and she stumbled backwards in shock.

Fang appeared behind her quick as a flash and steadied her with concern. He whispered something into her ear. The girl shook her head and whispered back. I strained to hear what they said, but I could only make out the words ". . . doesn't remember."

Fang let go of the girl and walked towards me, calm and composed. "Max? Are you alright?" he whispered softly, so only I could hear.

I started to tremble. "I . . . I don't know." I said, keeping my eyes downcast. "Who are you people? I mean, I know _you_. Your name is Fang. But who are the others?"

Fang's eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm so, so sorry Max." He only mouthed the words, but I heard them as clear as day.

The blind dude tapped Fang on the shoulder. "Fang, what's going on?"

Fang sighed heavily. "She doesn't remember anything, Iggy. Nothing, not even our names." Then he added a bit more softly. "It's like she's been brainwashed."

Iggy's face screwed up in pain. "Then we better refresh her memory." He turned to face me. "Hey Max."

I looked at him. "So, your name is . . . Iggy?"

He smiled softly. "Yep. I'm Iggy."

"I'm Nudge." the African-American girl said from behind Iggy's lean form.

"_I'm Angel_." a voice said inside my head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the small blonde girl waving at me.

"I'm Angel's brother, the Gasman." The small blonde boy grasped my hand tightly.

"Fang." Fang said. He still looked rather detached, like he was away in his own little dream world. I reached out and grabbed his hand, but he still didn't move, so I let go and pulled my hand back to my side.

Suddenly, I felt something scratch at my leg. I looked down and there, nearly on my foot, was the little black dog. "Sure, forget the dog." it grumbled. "I'm Total." Total wagged his tail limply and smiled at me. Strangely, I wasn't surprised by the fact that the _dog_ was _talking_. It seemed so . . . right.

"So." I stuttered, still uncomfortable. "Now that I know who you are, I have to ask. Who am I?" My cheeks flushed with embarrassment for asking such a stupid question. "I mean, you seem to know me pretty well, and I . . . I don't remember anything."

This would have been the moment when Fang and Iggy exchanged glances - that is, if Iggy hadn't been blind. "I think you better sit down." Fang suggested. "This might take a while." I placed myself beside Fang, feeling strangely calm in his presence.

"As you know," Fang began, "all of us have wings." He stretched out his, as if to make sure I knew they were there. "There are six of us, DNA life combatants from a secret laboratory in California, which we call," Here he lowered his voice. "the School." The name stirred dark memories inside of me and I shivered, even though I wasn't cold. Shattered images of needles and chemicals and blood flashed across my eyes, accompanied by strong feelings of pain and fear. Lots of fear. I returned my attention to Fang. "Anyways, all six of us were taken from our parents . . . or sold," he glanced pointedly at Angel and the Gasman.

"_Our parents sold us to the School for research," _Angel said inside my head. I smiled sadly at her.

"They graphed avian DNA into us in the early stages of development so we would gain the qualities of birds; different blood cells, lighter bones, greater speed, and the ability to fly. But a whitecoat named Jeb helped us escape to an isolated house in the mountains . . ."

I listened as Fang wove a story of their family, _our_ family, as we traveled across the country, searching for the answers to unlock our past. I could have sworn I could smell chocolate chip cookies when he mentioned my mom, a lady named Dr. Martinez, and I almost began to cry when he described the heart-wrenching death of my brother, Ari. Finally Fang finished and as we sat in silence, I could tell that he was holding something back. Something important.

I cleared my throat. "So how do I know that this isn't just some elaborate hoax?" I pressed, hoping to trip him up.

Fang looked at me with curiosity. "That," he said, "you will have to find out for yourself."


	8. Secrets

_I have an identity. My name is Maximum Ride, leader of the Flock and survivalist extraordinaire. I've kept my family out of harm more times than anyone can count; kept them alive for nearly four years. And I can't remember any of it. I feel like I've been dumped into a fantastic story that isn't mine, told the plot, and then expected to play my role perfectly, lines and everything._

_Everyone is so nice to me. Every time they start talking about something, they'll explain exactly what happened and even some of the events leading up to it. Helping me remember. And I am. My memories are coming back, slowly but surely. Like a blank book with words written in invisible ink that can only be seen with black light. My family is my light._

_I already feel at home among the Flock again. I certainly haven't taken my full duties of being leader again, but I am getting used to the daily routine of my family._

_And then there's Fang. He sits around all day like a dark shadow watching me, guarding me. Sometimes the others will start talking about when I left the Flock and Fang will suddenly appear behind me with the nastiest expression on his face. I think he's hiding something. No, I __**know**__ he's hiding something. It's written on his face, clear as day, but I can't figure out what it is._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I sat up, half awake, and stretched, nearly bonking Iggy in the head. The Flock was still asleep, all snoring softly, except for Fang. Fang had the early morning watch and was sitting in the corner of the apartment, the same one I spent nearly two weeks in. I scooted over to his side and sat silently, willing one of us to find the courage to say something.

I was the first one to speak. "Good morning." I yawned.

Fang stared straight ahead. "Morning." he said gruffly.

I leaned back against the wall and sat, contented, for a few minutes. Then I had an idea. "Fang?" I asked. "Why did I leave?"

I heard Fang suck in a deep breath and felt his body grow rigid by my side. His hand was trembling slightly, like his was in shock. I could tell that I had hit a very, very raw nerve.

"I mean, you never let anyone tell me. Every time they start to, you stop them." I pressed. Fang still didn't say a word. "Fang, are you alright?"

"Yes." Fang said. His voice was taunt and worried. I wouldn't be surprised if he was sweating like a waterfall under his black shirt.

"Well, why won't you answer me?"

"Because . . ." Fang's voice wandered. I leaned forward and looked at his face. His black eyes were unfocused, his hands shivered at his sides. It was like I'd stabbed him with a knife. After a long moment, he turned to face me. "Because I'm afraid to hurt you again." he whispered softly.

Yes, I'd scored a hit! "Hurt me?" I asked innocently.

Fang's eyes narrowed. "Max, I won't tell you. Ever. And I won't let anyone else tell you either."

Fang's tone of voice told me that this discussion was over, but I wasn't ready for it to be. "Why Fang? Why can't I know? Why are you hiding it from me?" But Fang stared straight ahead as if he hadn't heard me. I stood up and kicked his shin, hoping to get some sort of reaction from him. I didn't.

I stomped over to my spot on the floor and lay down sulkily. I would ring the information from him, even if it killed me.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

_That was close, too close._ Fang was scared, but he didn't show it. _Max isn't ready yet. If she finds out why she left us . . . _Fang didn't finish the thought, because he knew that the consequences of that piece of knowledge could ravage Max's delicate sanity forever. _I'm so sorry Max._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Once everyone else had woken up, our family shared a breakfast from Café Ala Trash Can. Nudge and Fang had pillaged a McDonald's dumpster of its contents; apple and cherry pies, hard cookies, half-eaten yogurt parfaits, egg Mc Muffins with sausage, cute little cartons of milk.

After that, we were on the go again, flying away from New York City and off to my mom's house. I was excited to see her since I didn't remember much still, only faint, fleeting images and the ever-present scent of chocolate chip cookies.

Fang hadn't talked to me yet, but he hung around, always following, always watching. It was like having a second shadow. Right now, he flew just behind me, tactically out of kicking range, but close enough to hear every word I said.

_Max?_ Angel asked inside of my head. _Your thoughts are all jumbled; are you okay?_

_Angel, what did I tell you about reading my mind?_

I heard the seven-year-old thought-sigh. _I know Max, but I was picking up some weird vibes from you. Are you alright?  
_I thought for a moment._ Yeah, I think so. Thanks anyway sweetie._ Behind me, I could feel Fang's eye boring into my back painfully. I was sure he suspected something.


	9. Chocolate Chip Cookies

We reached my mom's house about a week later. Everyone was tired and dirty and looking forward to a hot shower. With soap and shampoo and poufy scrub things. I, on the other hand, was looking forward to seeing my mom for the first time in my shattered memory.

We dropped down into the backyard of a quaint little house in Arizona. I instantly recognized it. Brief movie-like clips surged into my brain; me standing the woods behind us with a bullet wound in my wing, standing here on this very doorstep as an Eraser, me playing Go Fish with my sister, Ella, on the front porch.

I was nearly trembling with excitement as Fang rang the doorbell. My mom opened the door a few long seconds later, a smile on her face and the smell of hot food wafting around her. Her eyes lit up the instant she saw me.

"Max!" she cried warmly, running forward to rap me in a tight embrace.

I awkwardly hugged her back, hoping I didn't smell too bad. If I did, she didn't show any sign of it.

"I'm so glad you came!" she said as she ushered the seven of us inside. "I've been hoping you'd come back for a visit soon." I could smell tomatoes in the kitchen as she plopped us down on her living room couch, not minding that we were encrusted with dirt.

Gazzy was the first to crack. "That smells sooooo good!" he exclaimed, taking in a huge sniff.

My mom smiled. "I'll go throw some extra noodles in the pot for you." By 'extra noodles,' she meant 'four or five boxes of noodles.' My stomach rumbled. "I left your clothes in the guest bedroom dresser. Feel free to shower."

Everyone hurried in the guest bedroom, trying to grab their clothes first and claim the shower. I managed to grab a purple sweater and a pair of long jeans before the Gasman elbowed me in the side. I quickly retreated and ran out the door. Thankfully, I was first to the bathroom and got to experience a long, hot shower while the others waited outside. I made sure I took an extra long shower.

When I came out, my still-wet hair pulled back behind my ears, Fang was staring at me, as if searching for something. I returned his gaze evenly and trotted down the hall, flipping my hair defiantly. I plopped myself down on a chair in the kitchen and watched my mom stir a big pot of spaghetti sauce. Scents of tomatoes and spices were floating around in the air as the red liquid bubbled merrily. I sat up taller and looked into the sauce to see if there were any meatballs in it. There were.

"That looks good." I commented.

My mom turned and smiled at me. "I'm glad. It's an old family recipe." She pulled up a second chair and sat down beside me. The sauce boiled nosily in its pot. "So, Max. Has anything notable happened since I last saw you?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not really sure."

Mom cocked her head. "You don't know or you can't tell me?"

"I don't know." I shook my head, hoping to conceal the tears that were pricking my eyes. Why was I crying? I have no idea.

My mom obliviously saw them despite my efforts because she fell quite for a moment. Then she spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was calm and soothing. I wanted to tell her, but I wasn't exactly sure what had happened myself. _But Fang does._

I bit my lip and kept my eyes downcast. Mom patted me on the back. "When you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen." She stood up and pulled some plates out of the cabinet. "Max, could you get the others? The noodles are ready." She emphasized her words by pulling a huge spoonful of long, thin pasta out of the largest pot I've ever seen.

I pulled myself out of the chair, wiped my puffy eyes on my sleeve, and walked into hallway. "Come and get it!" I yelled, then hurried to a chair so I could be the first to be served. The Gasman, Nudge, and Angel pounded down the hallway and threw themselves into their chairs. Iggy came next, slowly, feeling the walls and furniture as he went so he wouldn't bump into anything. Fang appeared at my side last, like a dark shadow come to life, and slipped into his chair silently.

When we were all seated, Mom put the food on the table. The pasta bowl easily took up half the table, but I knew there was even more in the kitchen. The sauce pot sat fragrantly next to the noodles, full of red tomato juice and bobbing meatballs. Last came a platter of garlic bread. There had to be at least three loaves there.

My mom checked her watch. "Ella should be home by now." As if on cue, my half-sister burst through the door, dragging her backpack on one shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late Mom. Those boys gave me trouble again . . ." her outspoken voice trailed off as she saw us. "Hi Max!" she smiled, waving at us. She ran over and gave me a hug. There was a scrape on her cheek that was drizzling blood onto me.

My mom hopped up and looked closely at Ella's face. "You guys go ahead and start, I'm going to be a while. We'll join you soon." With those words she led Ella out of the dining room and down the hall to the bathroom.

I gave the Gasman a sharp look; he was practically drooling in the spaghetti. I could feel Fang's eyes boring holes in my back, but I didn't acknowledge him. I carefully lifted a piece of garlic bread off of the tray. Everyone else watched me like, well, hawks.

"What?" I said.

"You let her hug you." Nudge said, wide-eyed.

"So?" I said, stuffing the garlic bread into my mouth. "Dig in!"

I heaped a spoonful of noodles onto my plate and drowned them in sauce. An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. I could tell there was much more to Nudge's surprise than just my sign of affection to my half-sister. No, this had to do with my leaving the Flock.


End file.
